


You keep your distance with a system of touch (and gentle persuasion)

by wearetheluckyones



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (Or door sex really), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Harry, M/M, Minor Character Death, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, Switching, Top Zayn, Top!Harry, Wall Sex, blowjob, bottom!Zayn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-04-19 13:56:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4748888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearetheluckyones/pseuds/wearetheluckyones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Louis smiles. "You sound happier."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Harry shrugs, shutting off the water. "A bit, I suppose." He grabs the towel and gives it to Louis to use first. "Hahndorf, it's... different. It's slower and calmer and everybody knows everybody and they're all friends. The entire state is gorgeous, more gorgeous than anybody ever really realises, but The Hills... you should see it in Autumn, the leaves and the trees, and in spring, the flowers bloom-"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Yes, but are you happier? Than when you were here?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"It's hard to say." Harry takes the towel from Louis and dries himself as Louis dresses. "I haven't figured it out, yet."</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to write a slow and meaningful story, emotional or whatever, so I got out my paper and pencil and made a playlist on Spotify with soft acoustic songs and a few strong eighties ballads and hip-hop/pop songs mixed in, and here we are. 
> 
> Link to the Spotify playlist is [here](http://open.spotify.com/user/peujeune_aka_wearetheluckyones/playlist/6QMfkPluTiHVpvyww70DhY)
> 
> Title from Head Over Heels by Tears for Fears, which is possibly the best song in the entire world. It's also in the playlist ⬆⬆

Getting off the plane at Heathrow doesn't feel like coming home at _all_ , and Harry reckons that's what makes him saddest.

People recognise him, they always do, and they always will, but no one approaches him, and if he were any other person, it might make him upset, small almost, but he's him, and he doesn't feel anything at all.

He's got a backpack over his shoulder and a duffle waiting for him in claims, just enough to last him a few days in a country that should feel like home, but doesn't.

He thinks about buying a ticket home, it's not too late, but he can't leave his mum and his sister alone, even when his body heats uncomfortably at the thought of having to see anyone he ever knew _before_.

He gets his bag and is out of the airport in twenty, in a cab in another ten, on his way to the garage where his old cars sit, dusty and unused in over ten years.

London's just like he remembers, busy and clouded with exhaust fumes, so different from his tiny little town in the Adelaide Hills.

He'd lived in Handorf for eight years now, in a tiny little cottage a five minute walk from the shops on Mount Barker Road with a little yellow canary that would never just _shut the fuck up_. He had a job at a kindy and friends.

He had _friends_.

He knows for a fact that being here will dredge up things he'd rather be left alone; but he's here now, he can't stop it.

Opening up the garage feels like opening a door into his old life. His old Range catches his eye, then the Carrera, and then the Capri, but Capri only for a moment, he can't afford the influx of memories that come with that particular car.

He rushes to the case on the wall with his car keys and the spare keys to his old flat in Primrose Hill and pulls out the Range's.

It's still got a full tank when he turns the ignition on, and his old phone still sits in the motherfucking glove box, live a reminder.

He thinks about plugging it in and turning it on, he's got his car charger with him, but he's really not ready for ten years worth of texts, missed calls and notifications, so he leaves it, driving out of the garage, shutting the door behind him.

He settles himself in for the three hour drive to Holmes Chapel.

 

-*-*-

 

Gemma's been crying, Harry can tell. She's trying to put on a brave face for him, but her eyes are red-rimmed and puffy, and she looks like she hasn't slept in days.

She looks so much older.

"Harry, I'm so glad you're here." Gemma mumbles into Harry's neck, holding onto him tightly like she's worried he'll dissappear, right there, on the front doorstep as it snows down with a vengance. He'd forgotten what an English winter felt like, especially when it barely dropped below five degrees in the hills at night in winter. He doesn't miss it.

"Hey, Gem."

They stand at there for a few minutes, hugging, until their mum's voice rings out through the house. "Who's at the door, Gemma?"

It's weird seeing his mum after so long. She's got grey threaded into her dark brown hair, and there are deep lines etched into her forehead and the corners of her eyes, but she still looks like his mum.

He gets pulled into another hug, and for a second or two, he think he might cry, but he doesn't, he just holds onto her tight and comforts her as she cries alone, rubbing her back and kissing the top of her head.

They get into the kitchen at some point, silent as they wait for the kettle to boil.

Niall walks in, and, well... he knew, but he didn't really... _know_.

It's another hug that he doesn't really want, but he takes, for their sakes.

Niall stands behind Gemma with his arms on her shoulders and they wait for the kettle to finish boiling.

It's awkward, and Harry starts to regret coming here, even if his step-father is dead.

"Uhm, so, how've you been?" Niall tries, clearing his throat. "What've you been up to?"

Harry swallows the lump in his throat, clears it, and takes the mug of tea his mum offers. "Uh, alright, I guess, just... keeping to myself. How about... how about you guys?"

Niall smiles. "Yeah, we're good, we, uh, we had two girls. Rhea and May. We're, uh, thinking about another. Or two."

Harry smiles softly and nods, because he _is_ happy about having two little neices that he gets to meet while he's here. He feels almost... excited, in a way that he hasn't felt in a long time.

"Where've you been living?" Gemma asks. They all stare at him expectantly, and it makes him feel a little (a lot) vulnerable.

"Australia," he answers, finding comfort in the warmth of the mug between his cold hands. "Just west of Adelaide." He doesn't elaborate, and they don't ask for more, and for that, he's grateful.

"You aren't alone too much?" His mum looks worried and instead of retreating back into his shell, he smiles and shakes his head.

His mum nods, and they're silent until the doorbell rings and Niall gets up to answer it.

He recognises the voice straight away and his heart starts beating so fast he thinks it'll beat out of his chest. He thinks about getting up and hiding in the pantry, but he can't make himself move an inch.

"Hey mama Twist, Gemma. H... Harry?"

Harry turns in his chair to face Zayn.

"Harry, you're here."

There are suddenly two little girls running around the kitchen like headless chicken, and Harry recognises both Niall and Gemma in their features, can even see the same arch in the eldest's lips that he has, and he focuses on them to stop himself from getting up to punch Zayn in the nose and leaving.

"May, Rhea, this is uncle Harry." Niall introduces, noticing the change in mood. Harry turns to the two girls and smiles his best smile for them. "He's mummy's little brother."

They're both shy, and they hide behind Niall as he tries to convince them to step forward and say hi.

The youngest looks no more than three, but the oldest looks almost ten, and maybe Niall and Gemma really were shagging before he left. The oldest has sandy blonde hair like Gemma and Niall's eyes, and the youngest as Harry's curls and Niall's eyes. They're both really quite cute.

Harry gulps up the last of his tea. "I'm going to head to the hotel and sleep off the time difference." His mum looks like she wants to argue, and so does Zayn, but he leaves before either can get a word out 

 

-*-*-

 

When Harry gets to the hotel and in his room, he falls onto the bed and pulls out his laptop, booting it up, turning on the hotels wifi and typing out an email to his best friends.

 

_Angie and Damien,_

_Day 1._

_So Niall's been shacking up wit my sister since before I left, probably. They have two girls. They're cute, I guess. One even sorta looks like me._

_Mum looks a mess, understandably._

_Zayn was there. I thought i was going to throw up, but I didn't, so props to me._

_I'm going to get some sleep now, but I'll email you again on progress._

_Give the kids a kiss from me._

_Harry._

 

He sends the email off and shuts down his computer, browsing the room service menu for dinner.

 

-*-*-

 

He wakes in the morning to the room's telephone ringing, and he groans for a few seconds before he answers it with a husky, sleep-filled: "Hello?"

"Hi, Mr Styles, sorry to wake you, but there's a Louis Tomlinson here for you?"

Harry groans again. "Yeah, send'im up."

The woman from the front desk hangs up and Harry's sure he falls asleep again, because there's a knock at the door seconds later.

He answers the door, rubbing at his eyes to a bright, smiling Louis Tomlinson, and he looks the exact same he did the last time Harry saw him, as if no time had passed at all.

"Harold! I've come to take you to lunch!"

Harry smiles brightly, cause if he missed anyone the most those ten years away, it was Louis, for sure. "Have you really?"

Louis's grin widens. "Yes! Now get yourself ready, you old man!" 

Harry snorts and shakes his head, moving back into the room to let Louis in.

"Have a shower, bro, you stink like plane." Louis announces, shutting the door behind himself.

" _Thanks_." Harry mumbles sarcastically, finding the thin hotel towel and stepping into the bathroom, turning the shower to scalding hot and stripping down.

"So... Niall told me you left pretty quickly once Zayn had gotten there." Louis calls from the other room as Harry gets under the water, running his fingers through his hair, getting it wet. "Still no progress?"

Harry snorts. "Zayn's Zayn and I'm me."

"Very true. Not even going to bother, though?"

Harry tips the contents of the tiny hotel-supplied shampoo bottle into his hand, rubbing it through his hair. "No. I'm going to stay for Robin's funeral, I'm going to play the grieving son, and then I'm going to go home. My _real_ home."

Louis sighs, and Harry imagines he can _hear_ his eyeroll. "Fine. Ignore the fact you've been in love with the man for - what? - twenty years?"

Harry shakes his head even though he knows Louis can't see him and washes the shampoo from his hair, moving onto the conditioner. "I made this trip short for a few reasons, Lou."

"Did you forget about us?" Louis's voice is closer, inside the bathroom, and Harry peaks around the patterned, tempered glass to stare at him. "Seriously?"

Harry blinks. "Why would you think that?"

"You never called or wrote or anything and Niall says you have a new job and friends and everything."

Harry sighs. Fuck Louis. Fuck Louis for being so self-conscious and insecure and making Harry feel like a total arsehole. "Angie works with me and Damien is her husband. That's it, Louis. I haven't replaced you, okay? How could I forget the four men I spent every waking second with for ten good years of my life?"

Louis shrugs. "Liam did."

Harry lets out a series of colourful swears. "I'm not going to pull a fucking Liam, Louis, so can you please just bloody relax."

"But you did, Harry. You left."

Harry swears again. Because he did. He left. He pulled a Liam.

Louis sighs. "You're not like him. I'm sorry I said that." He gives Harry an intense look and Harry wants to shrink back behind the glass, but he doesn't. "Can I?"

Harry frowns, not understanding, before he gets it and frowns even deeper. They hadn't done this in years. They weren't exactly teenagers anymore. They were both almost fourty. But... "Yeah, alright."

Louis starts shucking off his clothes before climbing into the shower with Harry. "This thing's tiny." He complains, moving the shower head around so he can share the water with Harry, but it doesn't touch his hair. "Tell me about them. Your friends."

Harry shrugs. "Angie works at the kindy with me. She's a bit... intense when you first meet her, loud and crazy, like you are, but she really is lovely. Her husband, Damien, he owns a pub down the road from our houses. He's really... quiet. And shy. They're quite a contrast. They're both a bit younger than me, thirty-two and thirty, and they met in primary school. They have three boys, Louis, who was born when Angie was in her last year, he's fifteen, and he was, in fact, named after you, Angie was a big fan." Louis laughs, tipping his head back as the sound spills out of his mouth. Harry continues on. "Xander's thirteen and named after the guy from Buffy the Vampire Slayer," Louis laughs again. "And Dean is twelve. He was named after a Supernatural character. They also have one girl, who's ten, Sansa."

"Game of Thrones?" Harry nods, and he and Louis laugh about it for a few moments. "Where do you live?"

Harry hums. He hadn't told his mum exactly where, and thinks about doing the same with Louis, but he decides against it, decides to just tell him the truth. "It's a town just south-west of Adelaide in SA called Hahndorf. German heritage. I have a little two bedroom cottage with a little veggie garden out back and roses out the front. It's very picturesque. I also have a canary, Romeo, and he's possibly the most annoying thing I've ever known, starts singing the minute the sun rises and doesn't stop until it sets."

Louis smiles. "You sound happier."

Harry shrugs, shutting off the water. "A bit, I suppose." He grabs the towel and gives it to Louis to use first. "Hahndorf, it's... different. It's slower and calmer and everybody knows everybody and they're all friends. The entire state is _gorgeous_ , more gorgeous than anybody ever really realises, but The Hills... you should see it in Autumn, the leaves and the trees, and in spring, the flowers bloom-"

"Yes, but are you happier? Than when you were here?"

"It's hard to say." Harry takes the towel from Louis and dries himself as Louis dresses. "I haven't figured it out, yet."

Louis smiles sadly and nods. "Go get dressed, we're meeting Gabe at Goostrey."

Harry grins. God, he hasn't seen Gabriel since he was a toddler. He's gotta be fourteen, almost fifteen, now.

He dresses quickly, tying up his hair and tugging on a coat.

The walk to Pastimes of Goostrey is quick and the minute they walk inside, Harry recognises Gabriel instantly. He looks so much like Louis the first time he and Harry met.

"Gabe, remember uncle Harry?" Louis asks as they sit down. Gabriel only looks up from his phone for a few seconds to blink at Harry and mumble a quick 'hi'. "Ignore him, he's got a boyfriend."

"A boyfriend? Is he cute?" Harry asks, smiling.

Gabriel shrugs.

Louis snorts at his son, shaking his head. "Get off your phone and greet your god father properly, please, Gabriel. Dean will still be there after lunch."

Gabriel sighs and locks his phone, putting it down on the table. "Hi Harry."

Harry smiles again. "Hi Gabe. How've you been?"

Gabriel shrugs, fiddling with his fringe. "Okay, I guess. Youve been gone a while."

Harry frowns. "Yeah, I have, haven't I?" He sisghs, licking his lips and blinking down at his hands before looking back up at Gabe. "So who's this Dean?"

Gabriel smiles and Harry recognises it. That gooey, first love, romance smile. "He goes to school with me. He's in year twelve."

Harry chuckles. "An older man. Nice. Can I see a picture?"

Gabriel finds one in his phone, a photo of himself and Dean, a boy with dark blonde hair and green eyes. "Do you have a boyfriend, uncle Harry?"

Harry shrugs. "No, not for a long time."

Louis stands up. "I'm going to get food." He announces, looking first at Gabe and asking him what he'd like, then at Harry, asking the same.

"So a roast chicken and a roast ham? Tea okay?"

Harry and Gabe nod and Louis bounds over to the counter, leaving them alone. "How's your mum?"

Gabriel's mouth tips down. "Guess you don't know, do you? Mum stopped calling and coming over a few years after you left, and dad hasn't been able to get a hold of her since."

"I'm sorry, Gabe."

Gabriel shrugs. "So, how long you staying for?"

"I go home the morning after the funeral. Two days time."

Gabriel frowns. "Come back soon, okay? I don't think dad really realised how much he missed you until he knew you were coming over. He was all very depressed..."

"It's... hard being around certain people still." Harry bit his lip. "You and your dad can always come visit me."

Gabriel perks up at that. "Really?" Harry nods, smiles. "That'd be awesome."

"We can go swimming in Lake Alexandrina or something. I took my friend's kids down there and they loved it. Just and hour and a half from where I live."

Gabriel's still grinning when Louis sits down. "Yeah, I'd like that."

"Hmm?" Louis asks, trying to fit his change back into his wallet.

"I was just offering up an invitation. For you both to come visit me in Australia."

Gabriel stares at Louis expectantly and Louis chuckles. "Of course we will."

Harry smiles and nods once. "Good."

 

-*-*-

 

_Angie and Damien,_

_Day 2._

_I got your photos. I thought we agreed you weren't going to go without me!_

_I spent the day with Louis and Gabriel (who's fucking fifteen now and has a fucking boyfriend!). It was certainly better than my first day._

_Perhaps remind Sansa that she can't let Romeo out of the cage, once or twice more?_

_Give everyone a kiss from me._

_I miss you all._

_Harry._

 

-*-*-

 

 The next day, Harry wakes and dresses in the only suit he's owned since 2017, or maybe 2018, a dark blue thing with a black shirt underneath, and ties his hair back.

Louis and Gabriel are waiting for him in the parking lot outside and he has to take a series of large, gulping breaths before he can actually get into the car.

The St Luke's church cemetery looks just like Harry remembers; dark, foreboding, depressing, and it's only gotten bigger in his time away.

The service is nice, and he watches from the back as his mum and sister cry when Robin's coffin is lowered into the ground. He feels like an outsider, watching in. It doesn't feel right, because he doesn't feel he has the right to grieve with his family anymore. He just keeps back and hides behind a tree for a cigarette when the service is over.

"You're smoking, now?"

Harry ignores Zayn, taking a drag of his cigarette and scratching at the skin under his right sleeve, staring at the ground.

"Are you just going to ignore me forever?"

Harry sighs and tilts his head to look over at Zayn. "Yes. It seems to have worked for me very well so far." He goes back to his cigarette, digging the toe of his shoe into the ground.

"Look, I'm sorry I ended it like I did-"

"I don't care." Harry shakes his head and lets out a short, mirthless laugh. "It's been ten years, and I don't care, because my step-father is dead, and I don't deserve to be here anymore."

"Harry-"

Harry shakes his head again. "No." He drops his cigarette to the ground and stomps it out, striding past Zayn to find Louis and Gabriel.

"I'm going to get very, very drunk, and then I'm going to fly home tomorrow and pretend I never came back here."

Louis sighs.

 

-*-*-

 

The wake is decidedly less depressing than Harry thought it would be, but maybe that's because he's drunk on whiskey within the first hour, sitting in the corner of his mum's living room.

People come up to him, and he's polite, but he makes it perfectly clear that he is _not_ in the mood for company. 

 Louis sits beside him for a while, so does Niall, but he studiously avoids them both until they leave cause he knows they can both take it.

He's halfway through his fifth (or maybe sixth?) glass when he decides he needs a piss and starts making his way upstairs. The bathroom's empty and he lets himself in, locking the door and dropping his pants.

Once he's done and his pants are up and he's washed his hands, he steps outside and looks around the dark, deserted hallway. He can hear the voices from downstairs, and he doesn't really want to go down _just_ yet, so he finds himself walking towards his old room.

It's not empty, theres a man in there running his fingers carefully through Harry's old music collection, studying them. It takes Harry a second to realise it's actually Zayn.

Harry hides behind the doorframe, watching.

"The Stones." Zayn grins, pulling out the four The Rolling Stones album, frowning when he catches sight of something behind the albums, carefully pulling out a rolled up magazine.

God, Harry'd completely forgotten he'd put that there.

"Leatherman, Harry?" Zayn laughs to himself. "You cheeky, kinky boy. Of _course_ you'd collect classic skin mags." He searches behind the rest of Harry's CDs and finds three more Leatherman magazines and four DirtyBoyz. Zayn laughs. "Better takes these so your mum doesn't find them when she moves."

"Moves!" Harry squawks.

Zayn turns around on his heel as Harry stumbles into the room, snatching the magazines from Zayn's hands and throwing them onto the floor near the bed with ' _fwap_!'

"What do you mean she's _moving_?"

Zayn frowns. "She can't live in this big house all alone anymore, Harry. She's selling this place and buying a two bedroom near Gemma and Niall's."

"But, I... I _grew up_ here."

"I know, Harry, but it's already been set in motion."

Harry doesn't realise he's crying until he'sin Zayn's arms, his knees buckling beneath him and sending them to the floor. He sobs into Zayn's neck, curling into himself, hands squeezing tightly at Zayn's shirt.

"It's _my fault_."

Zayn shakes his head. "Don't be stupid, Harry, why would it be _your fault_?"

"I _left_. I wasn't _here_."

Zayn shakes his head again. "Harry, Robin was sick. You being here wasn't going to make that any less true."

Harry shakes his own head, leaning back to look at Zayn. "I didn't want to leave, but I had to."

Zayn looks down at his hands and nods. "I know. I know you left because of me."

Harry isn't sad now. No, now he's angry. He lets out a short, mirthless laugh and pulls fully away from Zayn. "It wasn't just you, Zayn, don't be so fucking self-absorbed. I left because this place didn't feel like home anymore. You may have helped with _that_ , but it wasn't just you, so _shut up_." Harry wipes his eyes and stands himself up, straightening out his suit.

He turns to leave, but Zayn stops him with a hands around his wrist. "Harry, wait."

Harry shook his head, trying to pull away from Zayn's hand. "Let me go, Zayn."

"No. I'm not letting you leave again Harry."

Harry snorts. "You can't _stop me_."

Zayn pulls Harry closer, hard, until their bodies and their mouths collide with a harsh clattering of teeth. Harry pulls away seconds later, staring at Zayn, ready to break his damn nose, but he doesn't even give himself a chance, pressing his lips to Zayn's again, almost violently, licking roughly into his mouth.

The door was shut behind them and Harry was pressed up against it as the kissed, hard and rough and so, _so needy_.

Zayn's shirt comes off first, and Harry presses his fingers to Zayn's skin before his own jacket and shirt come off.

Harry's fingers fiddle with the snaps of Zayn's trousers until they come undone and he tugs them down, dropping to his knees and mouthing at Zayn's cock through his boxer briefs.

"Fuck, _Harry_."

Harry reaches in and tugs Zayn's cock out of his pants, wrapping his mouth around the head. Zayn's cock feels familiar on his tongue, and Harry digs the very tip of it into Zayn's slit, like he knows Zayn's _loves_. Zayn cries out and thrusts his fingers into Zayn's hair, pulling him further onto his cock.

"God, Harry, please fuck me, I need you to _fuck me_." Zayn begs, grinding his cock into Harry's mouth.

Harry reaches back into Zayn's briefs for his balls, taking them out and swapping Zayn's cock with them, sucking his balls into his mouth with a hands firmly around Zayn's cock.

"Oh, God, Harry, _please_."

Harry blinks up at Zayn and pulls his mouth from Zayn's balls.

"There's no lube."

Zayn shakes his head. "I don't care, I don't care, I don't care, I need uou inside me _now_ , _please_."

Harry nods and tugs Zayn's pants all the way down, helping him step out of them. "Hands on the door."

Zayn presses his hands above him on the door and spreads his legs as Harry settles behind him and digs his fingers into Zayn's cheeks, spreading them and blowing hot air over his hole.

"Oh, God." Zayn cries at the first touch of Harry's tongue on his hole.

Harry licks him open, getting him wet with spit before he finishes the job with his fingers, stretching Zayn until he's whining and begging and crying out.

"Now, Harry, please, now." Zayn begs, grinding back on Harry's fingers, his face pressed into the door. "Harry, _please_."

Harry stands up, pressing his body into Zayn's back, mouthing at Zayn's ear. "Always so fucking impatient."

Zayns whines, pressing back into Zayn's crotch. " _Please_ , baby, _please_."

Harry reaches down and unbuttons his trousers, reaching in for his cock, pressing the head to Zayn's hole and pushing in.

Zayn's tight; tighter than Harry remembers, squeezing like a vice around his cock, so he goes slow, mouthing at the skin of Zayn's neck, arms wrapped around his belly.

Zayn cries out once Harry's bottomed out, cheek pressed into the dark wood of the door, mouth slack and eyes closed.

Harry does nothing but grind up into Zayn for a long time, sucking bruises into his skin until Zayn begs for more and Harry really starts fucking up into him. It took him months the first time they were fucking to learn exactly where Zayn's prostate was and how to hit it dead on with every thrust, and now that he knows, years later, he uses it to his advantage, taking Zayn apart on his cock, peice by piece, until he's a whimpering, blubbering, writhing mess.

"God, Harry, _harder_!" Zwyn cries, hole clenching around Harry's cock.

Harry obliges, cause he knows Zayn's close, fucking up into Zayn harder until the door creaks with the force.

Zayn cames only a few thrusts later, spurting over the door, and Harry's quick to follow, coming inside Zayn.

They find the bed after a while and curl up together to sleep.

 

-*-*-

 

(And the next morning, Harry leaves before Zayn wakes. Goes back to his hotel and packs his things and gets on his plane home.

Cause England isn't home anymore.)

 

-*-*-


	2. Part Two

Months later, in the dead of the night, Harry's lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling through the darkness, cursing to himself.

_Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid fucker._

Sex with Zayn was like a drug; addicting, and just like any junkie, Harry had gone straight back to it after years of sobriety for just a moment's satisfaction.

His own stupidity astounded himself.

Being back home had been good. Something like a calming influence. Angie hadn't let him have a second to himself, besides the times he laid awake in the middle of the night, and Harry couldn't figure out if he hated her for it, or loved her more than he could possibly comprehend himself.

He'd spend the weekdays working at the kindergarten with Angie, and the nights and weekends with Angie, Damien and the kids. 

He was exhausted, but he wasn't constantly thinking about Zayn, and Zayn's eyes, and his lips, and his cock and his everything. 

They'd gotten together weeks after One Direction had taken their hiatus in twenty-sixteen, when Harry went down to Malibu to celebrate Zayn's album with him. They'd gotten very, _very_ drunk, and had smoked until everything was fuzzy around the edges. Then, after little thought, they'd fucked in Zayn's bed until the sun rose.

They'd come out the next year, completely accidentally thanks to a few candids taken through the fence of Zayn's backyard, but they'd been happy. They were together and in love.

They'd spent four good years together, until, without warning, Zayn broke it off.

Harry had come home to their cozy little flat early afternoon in twenty-twenty to Zayn packing frantically.

"What's wrong? Where're you going?"

Zayn had turned back to Harry, face pale and breathing erratically. "You weren't supposed to be back until eight."

"I wanted to suprise you." Harry had held up the bottle of expensive champagne in his hand (Zayn's favourite) and shook it a little. " _Where are you going?_ "

Zayn had stopped packing, and turned to Harry, sighing heavily. "I've gotta go."

"Go where?"

"Harry, I can't stay, I can't do this. This... this domesticity is _killing me_."

Harry hadn't understood. What about it was 'killing' him? They were so good together.

"What?"

Zayn had shaken his head and started packing again, not meeting Harry's eyes.

After that, Harry hadn't known what to say, so he had let Zayn leave.

He left too, dropping of the face of planet, living in Greece for a time, and Istanbul, before settling in Hahndorf, a place where almost everyone knew who he was, but no one cared.

Harry sighs and turns onto his side, staring out the window at the old oak in the front yard, swaying in the wind that had picked up after the afternoon's light breeze.

He tries to fall back asleep, and eventually, he does.

-*-*-

"Y'know, you remind me of someone I used to know." Angie says at work the next day, in their break. "He ran away and I met him in a bad part of his life. But then, over time, he became happier, livelier. Now your back to square one. It's _his_ fault."

Harry stares at his sandwich for a moment, ham and cheese and salad, before shaking his head. "Nah, s'my fault. I'm a junkie. I'm addicted to fucking Zayn goddamned Malik."

Angie shakes her head, but she doesn't say anything, at least not until they silence had become thick with tension. "Maybe you need a boyfriend."

Harry rolled his eyes, sighing in an exaggerated manner. "That seems to be your solution to everything. ' _Harry's eating to many Tim Tams, get him a boyfriend_ '. ' _Harry lives all alone in a huge house (that's really only very little), get him a boyfriend_ '. ' _Harry's doesn't have enough friends, get him a boyfriend_ '. "

Angie laughs. "Yep, that's me, definitely. John took a fancy to you."

Harry scowls at her, but she laughs at him.

-*-*-

Louis and Gabriel visit in July.

They spend most of their time exploring the state, go down to Yankalilla and up to Renmark and Harry finds little place he'd never been to before, like a music store in Unley that sold vinyls and record players, and a cafe in Tea Tree Gully that had the best banana bread Harry had _ever_ tasted.

He enjoys their company, and he enjoys the peace they give him.

Just before they leave, a few days before, they have dinner with Angie and Damien and the kids, out on the back porch of Harry's house, with beer and laughs and merriment (and a kiss between Gabriel and Xander that Harry witnesses by accident and promises not to disclose).

It's getting close to midnight, and Dean is asleep in the swing chair while Sansa snores into Harry's shoulder, and Xander, Gabriel and Louis (the younger one, who they'd taken to calling Lou while older Louis was around, too) are in the lounge room playing on the game station Xander had brought over. Harry's well tipsy, and Louis looks a little closer to wasted, cheeks red and laughing loud with Angie who's no different.

Until Louis turns serious eyes to Harryand says what Harry had been dreading.

"Zayn wants to see you."

He makes it ten times worse by his conclusion.

"I gave him your address."

Louis sleeps on Angie' couch that night, but by the next morning, all is forgiven. Harry knew it had to happen eventually.

-*-*-

Zayn doesn't visit until early summer, two weeks before December, arriving at Harry's doorstep with an uneasy smile.

"Come on in, then." Harry says, because he's not an arsehole.

Harry makes tea, and they drink it in the kitchen in silence for almost five minutes before Zayn breaks the quiet.

"I found the ring."

Harry looks at him for a very long moment before he turns away without saying a word.

"I got... I dunno, freaked out?"

Harry shrugs. "How do you even know it was for you."

Zayn smiles softly and shakes his head. "' _We're looking down on the clouds_?"

Harry shrugs again. "That was _ours_. Our song."

Zayn nods and stands straighter, setting down his mug of tea. "I got scared. Cause that was, y'know, that was huge, so I left, took a week to get my shit together, then came back. You were gone. All your stuff was gone. I cursed myself for years, ' _How could you be so stupid?_ ' I didn't see you again until Robin's funeral. We had sex, and I thought maybe that was it, we'd sort it out and be back to the way things were, the way they should be. But then you were gone again."

Harry shakes his head and puts his own tea down, crossing his arms over his chest. "No, you can't say that, not after all this time, not after what you did."

Zayn steps closer, and Harry steps back, legs colliding with the cabinets. Zayn takes a step back. "I just thought you ought to know."

Zayn's gone after that, and Harry thinks that's the end, and he doesn't understand why that thought hurts him.

(Except he does.)

-*-*-

At work the next day, as Harry's packing up, the front door opens.

There's no kids left, and he's the only one there, so he looks up, gaping as he's faced with Zayn fucking Malik, in jeans and a tight t-shirt, holding a bunch of yellow roses.

 _Harry's favourite_.

"What are you doing?"

"Inviting you on a date." Zayn announces, smiling, eyes a little unsure, but determined.

"No."

Zayn frowns. "Why not?"

"Because I don't want to."

Zayn steps closer and holds the roses out to Harry. He doesn't take them, and Zayn frowns deeper.

"Harry, I'm trying."

"What's to say I want you to, huh? What's to say I want to go on a date with you? What's to say I still love you?"

He knows it'll hurt Zayn, it hurts him just saying it, but it needs to be said. Harry needs Zayn gone, so he can go back to his sorry existence. Even if he has to lie through his teeth.

Zayn's face screws up like he's in pain. Then suddenly, it smoothes out and he sighs. "That hurt, it really did, but luckily I know you're lying."

"Maybe I'm not?"

Zayn shakes his head and leave the roses on the desk between them, walking out the door.

-*-*-

Zayn brings Harry a bunch of yellow roses every day for two weeks, and asks the exact same question, until Harry's had enough.

"Would you just leave me alone? Seriously! It's been ten years."

This time, one of the younger workers, and one of the only makes besides himself, Jackson, is helping his close up and he looks at Harry and Zayn, bewildered.

"Ten years I'm trying to make up for."

Harry groans loud and annoyed. "I don't want you to make up for it! I wanted you to be there!"

Jackson must slip out at some point, because when they start kissing, the room is vacant save them.

Zayn gets the desk cleared and Harry up on it, kissing him, whispering apologies into his mouth, holding him close.

Clothes are lost, and then Zayn's inside him, fucking him until Harry's begging, grinding down onto Zayn's cock.

Harry doesn't even bother worrying about the fact that he's being fucked in his work place. _A kindergarten_.

-*-*-

The next morning, a Saturday, Harry wakes with arms around him that hadn't been there the night before, he was sure. He was convinced he put Zayn in the guest bedroom.

Zayn's hard, Harry can feel the thick of it pressed between his cheeks, covered in joggers, and Harry had _missed_ this.

He wakes Zayn with a shake of the shoulder. "Why're you in my bed?"

Zayn shrugs. "It was lonely." He says, like that's the answer Harry was looking for. He's silent for a long time behind Harry before he takes a deep breath. "I'm hard."

"What do you want, a medal?" Harry tries to pull away. He is absolutely, one hundred percent _not_ blowing Zayn. Even if he wants to.

"No, it's just... I haven't had an erection in the morning since... Well, since you."

Harry shakes his head and sighs into his pillow. "I'm not blowing you, nor am I fucking you, or being fucked by you. Last night was a one off. Get out of my bed."

Zayn doesn't budge. Harry doesn't make him.

They're silent for a long time, Zayn still pressed into Harry's arse, until Zayn leans forward and kisses the skin behind Harry's ear, cock twitching. "I want you to fuck me so bad, Harry, need your cock inside me. Need you to fill me up, need you to make me yours."

Harry whimpers.

_No, no, no, no, no. This can't happen._

"No, Zayn, stop it." 

Zayn grinds against Harry, hand around his belly for leverage, kissing the back of his neck. "Make me, Harry."

Harry shakes his head, groaning when Zayn pinches a nipple. "Stop it, please just... God, Zayn, fuck _me_."

Zayn grinds up harder before flipping Harry onto his back and climbing up on top of him.

"Harry, I _love you_."

Harry stares up at him, taking him in. He's got lines at his eyes, now that he's a bit older, and when he frowns, like he's doing now, they crease more. "You can't say that."

Zayn frowns deeper. "I can if it's true."

"You can't, at all, because you left."

Zayn sits up, over Harry's thighs, outraged. "I left?" He asks. "I came back to find you'd left! You left! I stayed at Louis's for a week and you disappeared for ten years!" Zayn shakes his head and climbs off Harry. "You're such a stupid, ignorant arsehole. Yet I still love you! What does that say about me? I still love you and I want you and I need you and I miss your smile and your stupid fucking tattoos and your darling cock and when you'd make me tea in the middle of the night and stay up with me cause I couldn't sleep."

Harry sits up against the headboard, legs up against his chest.

"Jesus, Harry, I stayed with Louis a week, I spent that entire time thinking about you, thinking about coming home and saying _yes_. Cause I fucking _wanted_ to marry you, arsehole. I wanted to marry you and find a stupidly big house somewhere between Holmes Chapel and Bradford and I wanted to help you raise are kids there. Christ, you're so fucking _thick_ sometimes!"

Harry looks up at Zayn, who's breathing hard and red in the face. He takes a deep breath and cracks an unsure smile. "I am, aren't I?"

Zayn's whole face changes - it eases and the frown melts away to a soft smile. "You are." He shakes his head. "I came home with the intent to say yes, even if you hadn't asked."

"I do still love you, y'know. It's been ten years, and my feelings haven't changed."

Zayn nods. "I know how you feel."

"I missed you. A lot. Every day. Every day there'd be something that I'd wish I could tell you or show you, and it'd make me miss you even more." Harry looks down at his knees. "I wanted you to be there with me."

Zayn nods.

"The offer still stands, y'know. I've still got it here, in my cupboard."

"What? The ring?"

Harry nods. "Ten years later and I still want you to be my husband."

Zayn seems to light up with an idea that Harry already knows he'll both hate and love. "Lets do it. Right now. Lets go to a magistrate and do it."

Harry shakes his head. "We can't Zayn."

"Yeah, we can. C'mon, marry me."

Harry looks at Zayn in disbelief. He wants to say yes, and maybe he should, maybe they should get married right now. "Okay."

Zayn grins, bright and wide, crawling over to kiss Harry.

-*-*-

Angie and Damien think they're idiots, but they still agree to be their witnesses, and at midday, they get married in a magistrates court, because they're still young and reckless and _so, so in love_.

-*-*-


End file.
